


Later

by orphan_account



Series: Teen Wolf ficlets [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e09 The Girl Who Knew Too Much, F/M, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because einfach_mich wanted more Scott/Lydia, here is a very short thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Later

**Author's Note:**

  * For [einfach_mich](https://archiveofourown.org/users/einfach_mich/gifts).



> Totally unbeta'd and written in half an hour, so make of that what you will. Inspired by [this gif set](http://t.co/0Fh6YHMePa) from s3e09.

Lydia's neck still hurts where the cord dug in, and she's pretty sure the knife nicked her skin—which means another outfit _ruined_ , damn it—but right now those concerns are secondary to her worry for Stiles and Scott.

Stiles stands at the window, staring through the broken glass as if his world has shattered along with it, and Scott keeps saying, "It's gonna be okay," even though blood won't stop trickling from the corner of his mouth, staining his skin. Lydia wonders if he even realizes how injured he is.

Coughing, she stands and croaks out, "Stiles."

Her voice, weakened as it is by strain and strangling, manages to break the spell. Stiles turns on his heel to face her. Scott looks at her, too, but she can't meet his eyes. Not yet. Speaking to Stiles, she says, "You need to find Derek."

She's seen it before: the worse circumstances get, the quieter Stiles gets, and right now his face is nearly immobilized by panic while he mutters, "He's… he's at the hospital…"

"We're going to get him," Chris Argent says from the door. Isaac and Allison crowd behind him.

"Lydia, are you all right?" Allison demands.

Overwhelmed with relief to see actual experts, people who know what they are and their place in this supernatural world she's involuntarily joined, Lydia nods. "I'm fine. You need another werewolf to help find him. Get Derek."

Isaac doesn't protest her dismissal of his werewolf talents, for which she's grateful. Everyone rushes from the room, and Scott's hard on their heels before Lydia calls him back with an attempted shout that exits her mouth as a whisper. "Scott."

Instantly, he's at her side, hand on her elbow, giving her support she doesn't technically need. "What is it? Are you really all right or were you just saying that? Oh, hell, you're bleeding." One finger traces a line beneath the garrote's mark. "C'mon, you need to get to the hospital so someone can check you out. Good thing we're going there anyway."

Ignoring the gooseflesh that prickles in the wake of his touch, she catches his hand in her own to stop it and snaps, "I'm not worried about me; I'm worried about _you_. You spat up blood all over the floor over there and I don't know how strong that walking corpse is but she sure as hell looked like she could fracture some bones." He looks away, so she presses her free palm to his chest, confirming her suspicions with his wince. "Your sternum's broken, isn't it?"

"Not for much longer," he replies, forcing a smile. "I might get the shit kicked out of me way more now than I did before I was a werewolf, but at least I heal a lot faster." Twisting the hand she still holds so that he can grasp her fingers in return, he adds, "Good thing, too, because I think that last scream might've ruptured my eardrums." Tears, as unwelcome as they are unexpected, spring to her eyes, and the smile disappears. "What's wrong?"

"I wasn't able to help," she manages to say, though she can barely speak through the sobs that want to break free. "Was I? Someone else died, didn't they? And now Stiles' dad—"

"Hey," Scott interrupts, pulling her closer. "No. That's not your fault. You did what you could."

"Which is the single most indirect way to let someone know she failed," she says.

"I didn't do much except get thrown across the room, but you haven't called me a failure yet."

Somehow, her forehead has come to rest on his shoulder. She mumbles into his shirt, "That's because you're not. You came in here and you saved me." It's what he does. He's got superhuman powers and instead of using them to be the best at everything that most high school boys dream about doing, he sees them as an _obligation_. To _save_ people.

And when he can't, it tears him apart. Lydia watched his face when he held the flare in the parking lot of that godforsaken hotel, and she saw the bone-deep weariness that came from the responsibility he's assigned himself, and the heartbreak that follows when he inevitably can't keep up with it all. If she doesn't let him go after the sheriff, right now, he'll never be able to forgive himself for failing his best friend.

Accordingly, she pushes herself upright, though she can't stop clinging to his hand. Not quite. And her other hand is still on his chest, which is already rising and falling beneath her touch with renewed ease. Although the heartbeat is still elevated so maybe he's not completely healed yet. "You should go," she says, firming her chin when it wants to wobble. "Stiles needs you." He's not the only one who does, but he definitely needs Scott the most, and she's trying to learn to be less self-centered as part of her secret list of personal development goals for this year.

Scott doesn't reply. He just keeps looking at her, and it's really strange to lock gazes with a boy who's completely unafraid to let what he's thinking show, or maybe it's that he's incapable of hiding it, but either way the air seems just as elusive in this particular moment as it did when that cord tightened around her windpipe. Because those levels of earnestness and tenderness should be reserved for… well, someone who isn't Lydia Martin. Someone who knows what to do with them.

But then her internal debates become moot, because Scott's kissing her and unlike the first time he did, this is the real Scott, the one who cares too much. Lydia makes a tiny noise in the back of her throat before she parts her lips for him. One warm hand caresses her face, and the gentleness of the gesture nearly undoes her, but then she forces herself to pull back.

"Stiles," she reminds him, and he ducks his head, shame flashing across his face. It hurts to see, so she says, "Later. I promise," and that restores his smile before he runs from the room, Lydia following at human speed.


End file.
